A gypsy scribbler's musings & ruminations
Long day. No food in the fridge. Craving Indian curry and rice. Head to the nearest food court. There were only a handful of people eating dinner on the top floor of Westgate. A slow night in the mall with some of the usual types: An elderly Indian couple out with their grown children. A... Continue Reading →
Dec 29th - 31st She gave me a curious look - maybe hesitant or confused, certainly amused - and responded, "Do we bathe every day? Of course." I glanced off towards the field for a moment, faintly embarrassed. I had come prepared to rough it. What's three days without a bath after all? But my... Continue Reading →
3:05pm. With ten minutes left to the start of a long weekend, the class of ten-year-olds in front of me were getting squirrely. I decided to cut my musical losses and have a group chat. "So what are you guys doing for the long weekend? Their hands shot up in the air and a couple... Continue Reading →
A weathered taxi pulled up to the gas station. The slightly disheveled, middle-aged driver stepped out into the early morning drizzle and straightened his hat. One of the pump attendants recognized him with a broad smile and the two men greeted each other. "Kenya mpya!" "Eh, Kenya mpya!" An odd greeting for a Saturday morning.... Continue Reading →
The deep blue and bright blue lay before her, stitched together by a grey-green horizon of stone and pine. Far above her head, the wind that knows no land whipped wispy, white waves across the sky. Just below her paddle, milk-white moon jellies danced slowly around the emerald-green sea-grass. A pair of bald eagles swooped... Continue Reading →
My head exploded in the middle of the night and loosed a swirling vortex of longing and doubt so strong that it swept me out of Nairobi and dropped me on a lonely Mombassa beach. I spent 36-hours under a palm tree, the Indian ocean lapping at my toes. I took no camera so have... Continue Reading →
Samuel Johnson - British author and critic in the late 1700's - once wrote, "Whoever surveys the world must see many things that give him pain." This afternoon, when I came home from school, Benson opened the gate for me as he usually does. I stopped on my way in and rolled down the window.... Continue Reading →
Life is like … a Choose Your Own Adventure book. Page 76: “Some friendly bystanders help you and your friends roll the car back on its wheels and tow it to the nearest village police station. The helpful constable takes down the report, while your friends take pictures of the damage. Soon, the four of... Continue Reading →
I sat beside the dusty road and wept. I'm so sorry Where was the man on the bike? I wanted to tell him I'm so sorry I lifted my head from my knees - a crowd had begun to gather. Where had they come from? So many people so quickly in so lonely a spot.... Continue Reading →
On Saturday, I was driving across town when a newspaper vendor standing at an intersection caught my eye. He was holding a stack of the Saturday Nation - one of the city's leading papers. The huge cover story so piqued my interest that I quickly shuffled for some change while rolling down my window, inching... Continue Reading →
Of Wonders & Wanders 
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